4pm, February 6th, Annual Occurance
by The-MarmaladeCat1
Summary: There's a ritual he does: 4pm, February 6th. Annual occurance. One day, Kakuzu asks Hidan why.


Warning:- Hidan's mouth:D

* * *

It's raining and Kakuzu pulls the rim of his hat further down across his face shielding his eyes from the downpour. All around him there is the beat of raindrops on leaves and branches, hissing staccato amongst the grass and creating a thick mud out of the clearing's centre. The deluge washes away the scent of blood and makes a mockery of Hidan's circle of Jashin.

Cold creeps like a winding snake through the threads of his cloak and slips between the layers of his clothing, sliding flickering ice tongues across his skin. He blinks against the splash of rain on his collar and watches the forest. At his feet, Hidan curses and strikes another match. Kakuzu has long since ceased watching him struggle to light the sacred candles.

A third match, a fourth. An exultant cry quickly cut off by a snarl of frustration and the hiss of a flame extinguished.

Kakuzu lets his eyes slide closed as the weight of the rain finally penetrates his cloak and begins to run down the back of his neck.

"Why do you need to do this now?"

It might be a foolish question and one that he has asked before, but the chill of water across his shoulders is rapidly stealing away Kakuzu's patience.

"I'm not--" Another match struck, "--skipping Lord Jashin's rituals for the sake of--" A snarl, a sigh, "--a fucking _rain shower_!"

It's more than a shower, it's a deluge, and Kakuzu bites back on the icy reply trying to crawl out of his throat. It's also three times a day with an extra ritual every second day of the fourth week of every month, and one on the last hour before dawn of each third Sunday. But it's not usually at four pm on a cold and wet Tuesday afternoon.

"I meant, this isn't the usual pattern. What's so special about here and now? We're in the middle of the back of beyond and there's not a village for thirty miles. This _cannot_ be a sacred place for Jashin."

"What the hell would you know about Jashin's sacred places, bastard?"

Kakuzu's lip draws into a sneer that is lost beneath his mask. "Enough to know you can worship Jashin wherever the hell you want to -- everywhere is sacred to Lord Jashin, isn't that how it goes?"

"Damned straight," Hidan replies and fumbles in his cloak. "Where the hell's my other pack of matches. These ones are wet."

Kakazu breathes out between stiff lips and glares back out across the forest. Hidan continues to scrabble through his pockets and across the clearing the upper edge of the circle of Jashin begins to slowly wash away.

"So tell me why we're out here in the pouring rain when you could just as easily lay out a circle in the next inn we get to; somewhere warm, dry, out of the rain? Or are you just being the awkward little prick you usually are?"

Hidan has finally managed to locate his second box of dry matches and is just sliding them open when he fumbles and the box slides out of his fingers to land in the puddle at his knees.

"Fuck!"

Kakuzu glances down at companion and watches the rain streak across the top of the other man's head, drawing his pale hair into ratty, dripping strands. Hidan has paused, his hands fisted against his knees, his head bent so that he glares down at the ground. Kakuzu sees the whitening of the priest's knuckles where he is clenching his hands tightly.

"Let's do this later," he says softly.

Hidan wipes the rain off his brow with the back of one sodden sleeve. "Can't," he replies shortly. "Gotta be done now. Four pm, February 6th, each year without fail. Got an anniversary to remember."

Kakuzu blinks slowly as Hidan starts to pick up the matches, one by one. The priest-nin doesn't look up at him and the other nin waits quietly for a long time before he makes a querying half-grunt of reluctant curiosity.

"Day my sensei died," Hidan supplies shortly.

Makes sense, Kakuzu supposes, and he knows his companion well enough to understand the manifold possible explanations for the death. Most likely it was Hidan's hand on the blade that slew the man. Nonetheless, it's another ritual that Hidan will shed blood to uphold. Just one amongst a thousand.

Kakuzu waits until the priest-nin has gathered all the ruined matches and slipped them back into his robes, opening the first box again to try his luck with those. Then, pulling the wide-brimmed Akatsuki hat from his head, he shakes off the raindrops and holds it flat over Hidan's hands.

Hidan hesitates and then nods once before he opens the box and strikes another match.


End file.
